


Lotor's Pets

by rinthegreat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 1, M/M, Multi, Sensory Deprivation, Voltron NSFW Week 2017, pining!Shiro, please read the warning this is NON-CONSENSUAL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: Being captured by Lotor had never been part of the plan.NSFW week day 1: multiInspired by Jaspurrlock's Shancelot art





	Lotor's Pets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaspurrlock (stilesstilerstyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> Third time's the charm: THIS IS NONCON. IF THAT SQUICKS YOU OUT TURN BACK NOW.
> 
> Anyway this is inspired by [this glorious piece by jas](http://jaspurrlock.tumblr.com/post/164498438202/pets-support-me-on-patreon-d). I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are my own.

Being captured by Lotor had never been part of the plan. The plan had actually been a decent one to start with. Almost as good as what led them to take down Zarkon.

Shiro was supposed to fly with Lance in the red lion – the only lion fast enough to get him onto Lotor’s ship and still avoid getting shot. The fact that no one outside the team itself thought Shiro was alive (since Keith had taken over Black full time) was actually supposed to work in their favor.

Keywords: supposed to.

Lance and Shiro had gotten separated from the rest of the team before they could get away. Lotor’s comet-ship blasted Red with something that caused Lance to scream and clutch at his skull, Shiro completely worthless next to him. Red had flung them both out into space, presumably to save them, where they went careening into a small pod neither of them had noticed earlier.

That’s the short story of how they ended up here.

He and Lance had been stripped upon arrival – all Altean tech removed from their grasp. Almost immediately afterwards they’d been clamped with collars and handcuffs; cuffs that shut down his Galra arm, rendering him useless and crippled again.

And then, of course, he’d been blindfolded.

“Shi-“ The sound of Lance’s cry being cut off still haunts Shiro, even though it happened…well, he’s lost track of time now. He’d wanted to reach out, touch Lance’s face and make sure he was still there, still alive, but he couldn’t move his arms at all.

Shiro’s still not sure how the hell they ended up _here_ though. Wherever the fuck _here_ even is. He may be blindfolded, vision completely cut off, but he can still feel and hear. What he feels is very, _very_ exposed. And what he hears is:

“Interesting how pliant Blue gets when he can’t hear, don’t you think, Champion?”

Lotor.

Shiro bares his teeth in a growl, but all he gets in response is a whimper that he can tell comes from Lance. Immediately he regrets it. Lance may be blindfolded, maybe not, but if he isn’t then he shouldn’t be forced to watch Shiro lose himself without knowing _why_. So he schools his face into something calmer, something he hopes is encouraging.

There’s a tug on the collar, and Shiro’s head drops forward. Heat radiates off whatever is in front of him, and puffs of air hit his face. He really hopes it’s Lance.

“Here’s what I want you to do, Champion,” Lotor starts, voice smooth. The sound comes from above his head, meaning whoever is breathing on him isn’t Lotor at least. He _really_ hopes it’s Lance.

“I want you to move your pretty little head down,” his head is pushed, as if to demonstrate, “and prove to me that humans are worth saving. Prove that you’ll be a _valuable_ asset to the Galra Empire.”

“Never,” Shiro growls, all desire to stay calm gone.

Lotor chuckles, not seeming put out by his refusal. “I am sure Blue will be more compliant.” Shiro can’t see, can’t move, can only feel and hear. What he hears this time is another whimper, more terrified this time. And what he feels is a flinch so hard it shakes Lotor’s body against him.

“Don’t touch him,” he warns, jerking against his restraints.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Lotor remarks calmly, as if Shiro hadn’t just threatened him. “Had I only seen you, I would’ve thought human skin was always gnarled and scarred. But he is _flawless_.”

Shiro doesn’t like the way Lotor’s talking about Lance. As if he’s an object, something to be played with and tossed away. Lotor can do whatever he wants to Shiro, but if he so much as _touches_ Lance, Shiro will…Shiro will…

“Don’t hurt him.” He means it to come out harsh, a threat like before. Instead his voice is weak, and it sounds more like he’s begging than anything.

The collar around his neck tightens, and the heat in front of his face disappears. He’s pulled back, away from Lotor and Lance. Shiro struggles, fighting against his restraints, but it’s really no use. He hears a muffled yelp from Lance, and Shiro renews his struggling. His Galra arm is a deadweight, doing nothing to help against the restraints. If anything, it makes everything worse, providing an immobile force his human arm couldn’t break through. Not without snapping off his other hand.

Shiro’s mind races, creating worse and worse scenarios for what could possibly be happening to Lance. Lotor could be hurting him, torturing him, and Shiro is _right here_ unable to help, completely worthless –

A muted cry sounds from somewhere in front of him.

“Lance?” He bursts out before he can stop himself. “Stop hurting him. Please.”

“I’m hardly hurting him.” Lotor’s answer comes out in a huff. As if…

Shiro’s mind goes somewhere else now. “Stop.”

A stifled moan reaches his ears this time.

“Why would I stop,” Lotor breathes, “when he’s clearly…enjoying it?”

And that…doesn’t help. Because he’s supposed to be getting them out of here, not picturing what Lance looks like when he’s _enjoying_ himself.

He’s seen it once – only once – when he walked in on Lance alone in the shower. It was late, later than most of them are normally awake, and Shiro had heard a noise coming from the paladins’ shared shower area. He’d raced in, assuming the worse, but instead he saw Lance lying on the tiled floor with his head thrown back, fingers of one hand buried to the third knuckle while the other wrapped around his very real erection. Shiro had slipped out quietly – after standing there for longer than he’d care to admit – but the thought haunted him for weeks.

The way it haunts him now.

Because now, what he’s picturing is Lance filled with something else entirely. He imagines Lance’s hands are cuffed together the way his own are, preventing him from jacking himself off. And that is a more appealing image than Shiro had thought he was into.

Would Lotor work him? Wrap his fingers around Lance’s straining erection and pump him until he comes? Or is he the type to make Lance push himself to completion on prostate stimulation alone?

Lance’s moans come out more regularly now, still muffled by what Shiro assumes is a gag. Gagged and deafened at the very least, then.

Shiro wouldn’t do that if he had Lance riding him the way he pictures the paladin is riding Lotor. He’d want to hear Lance – and all the little sounds he’s making now – uninhibited. He’d want Lance to hear him too. Hear Shiro tell him how good he is, how amazing Shiro feels buried deep inside him. How much he’s wanted this and for how long.

“For how adamantly you defended him, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.” Lotor’s voice brings Shiro back to the present. A present in which he’s not buried inside Lance but is blind on the sideline, forced to listen to the sounds of slapping skin and panting that he knows is no longer coming from Lotor.

Shiro means to argue, to tell Lotor that there’s no way he could enjoy the thought of his fellow paladin – nothing more, no matter how much he wishes – being… _enjoyed_ by someone else. But the lie gets caught in his throat before he can do much more than open his mouth.

“Zethrid. If you will,” Lotor instructs. Before Shiro can wonder what the words mean, the collar tightens around his neck, and Shiro is moved as if he weighs nothing more than a ragdoll. His legs are spread before he’s set down, straddling a set of thighs. He’s pushed forward, and Shiro can’t help but let out a moan when his painfully obvious erection rubs against something smooth and moving.

Lance.

His breath stutters when he hears a responding whimper come from the body in front of him. Any question of who it could be disappears – there’s no way it’s _not_ Lance.

But he’s not going to give in so easily. Shiro may not be the black paladin anymore, but he’s still a member of team Voltron. And he’s not going to let Lotor win without a fight.

“Stop.” His voice shudders as Lance’s back arches, his shoulders pressing against Shiro’s chest.

He can practically hear the smirk in Lotor’s voice when he responds. “I don’t think you want that, Champion.”

Shiro does want it though. He _does_. He –

Oh fuck.

A sound he’ll never admit to escapes his lips when Lance lifts up _just enough_ for Shiro to feel his shaft slide against the dip between Lance’s cheeks. Lance jerks back down suddenly, body shuddering against Shiro’s. “Blue is getting excited with you back there,” Lotor remarks. His body – or so Shiro assumes – is unmoving under his own. Shiro gets the distinct impression that Lance is doing all the work now. “He seems sad that you aren’t responding.”

Lotor’s lying, Shiro _knows_ Lotor’s lying. But that doesn’t stop the words from hitting their mark. He’s strung out, stressed, pushed to his breaking point, and he _needs_ release. Shiro drops his head to Lance’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. He mouths a soft _I’m sorry_ against the skin there before pushing his hips against Lance’s back again.

The hum that hits his ears is closer but just as muffled as before. Lance moves faster, body practically vibrating against Shiro’s own. He lets out little sounds, soft grunts and huffs, all choked and contained. Shiro doesn’t move his head from where it rests in the space where Lance’s neck meets his shoulder. Rather, he turns his head and licks off a bead of sweat trailing down the soft skin.

His own hips move, changing the pressure at which Lance’s back touches him. It’s a poor mimicry of sex; he would rather be between those firm cheeks or even Lance’s perfect thighs. Would far rather be the one thrusting in and out of Lance – he would never lie back and make the paladin do all the work for them both.

But this is as good as it gets for now.

Shiro lets his mind wander, imagine how Lance looks now. If the flush goes all the way down to his chest. If he likes being touched, being marked.

The last one he can actually try.

Shiro digs his teeth into that flawless skin, biting just hard enough that no one will doubt what the mark is from. The moan Lance lets out in response is wanton, loud enough it could deafen Shiro were the gag not in place. He sucks the skin hard enough to bruise before releasing it, kissing the area almost in apology.

Except he’s not sorry.

He’s hard and dripping and so, _so_ very close. Lance’s motions are erratic now, as if Shiro marking him is enough to bring him close to completion. And the thought of _that_ , of Shiro being enough to get him off, almost pushes him over the edge.

That’s not what does it though.

Two syllables escape the gag. Shiro barely has to imagine their meaning – the tone is clear. He closes his eyes, despite being blind and lets go, imagining what it looks like to have _his_ come all over Lance’s back. The imagined sight is beautiful, pushing Shiro over the edge to his completion, hips pressed as hard to Lance’s back as he can make them.

Shiro loses track of time after that. Lance’s movements continue for some time before he lets out a stifled cry. He stills, and the body beneath them both – the one Shiro had forgotten about – moves instead. Not long after, he hears a soft huff, and wetness pools in the space between him and Lance.

The collar tightens once more, and Shiro’s pulled away. This time he doesn’t protest, too boneless and blissed out to care what they do. He’s vaguely aware of his limbs being manipulated, of soft cloth replacing cold ground. A few clicks and his hands are lighter, freed from their bonds.

That’s enough to wake him up.

Shiro hears a clank, and he stumbles to his feet. But the ground shifts under him unexpectedly, and he’s sent toppling down again. By the time he pulls his blindfold off and realizes his arm is back online, they’re already gone. He looks around himself, registering that he’s inside a small shuttle, jettisoned away from Lotor’s ship.

When he glances out the window, the ship is gone.

Shiro looks around, confused as hell, but nothing seems to be an immediate danger to him. Or to Lance, who he now sees. Lance is sleeping on the floor, dressed once more in his paladin armor without his helmet. The edge of the mark Shiro had made shows, already turning a dark purple on Lance’s skin. His mouth is bruised as well, the outline of a gag present.

He needs to get them back to the castle.

Shiro lets Lance sleep, not knowing what to say to him anyway, and goes to the console. As soon as the screen pops up, a message appears. In English.

_Send my regards to the rest of the team._

A shiver runs down Shiro’s spine, but he ignores it. He deletes the message and turns on the distress signal instead. There’s nothing to do now but sit and wait. So he does just that while he tries to come up with a story for what happened on board the ship.

**Author's Note:**

> previews, drabbles, etc can be found at [this tag](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/tagged/cat-writes-fanfiction)  
> follow me on [tumblr](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/)! :)


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